Report: Filthy Apartment Has No-Shoes Policy

By Alan Weisz

Aug. 18, 2017

Despite strictly enforcing their stringent “no shoes allowed” policy since they moved in last June, the residents of 5132 Greenwood Ave., Apt. 3A, have, by all accounts, a disgustingly filthy apartment. The occupants, all of whom are rising third-years, have a diverse array of academic and extracurricular interests, none of which include even a modicum of desire or ability to keep their living space from being a pigsty.

Although the floor of the living room has no visible scuff marks, it is blanketed in a layer of dust, crumbs, and beer stains. The front entrance is almost completely obstructed by more than a dozen pairs of shoes, forcing residents to clamber over them like newly-hatched, filthy lizards taking their first steps. Some shoes appear to be at least ten feet from their partners, likely kicked there by residents stumbling in drunkenly at night.

While the back entrance is not blocked, ensuring the safety of the residents’ lives in the event of a fire, the kitchen into which this entrance leads assaults four of the five senses. The sink is filled to the brim with plates and pans soaking in putrid stagnant water. The only pot large enough to boil pasta resides at the bottom of a mound of caked-on eggs and potato chunks, which caused one resident to acquire second degree burns after attempting to make penne in a metal, handle-less bowl. And although the linoleum tiles show astonishingly little damage, the eye is immediately drawn to a pile of takeout containers piled up against an already-overflowing trash can in the corner of the room. Adjacent to the Leaning Tower of Pollutants, as this reporter calls it, is a hellscape of cans, Treasure Island bags, and bottles which the residents refer to aspirationally as “the recycling.”

“It’s all about the little things you can do to keep the place tidy,” says resident Sean M., whose name has been changed to protect his identity. “When we moved in, we all agreed on a no-shoe policy as a way of getting us to respect the space we live in.” Sean M., who is seated on his bed because his desk chair is covered with dirty laundry (his desk, as it happens, is covered with clean laundry), acknowledges that he and his roommates have busy lives. “Katie and Harry [edit: names have been changed] both have a pretty exhausting internships, and I’m taking Euro Civ this summer. While our own rooms can get a little messy sometimes, we all do our best to keep the common areas clean,” Sean M. explains, disregarding at least four separate Harold’s dinners left to rot on the living room table.

At press time, their subletter issued a statement that he is leaving prematurely, citing health reasons.